


heads up

by wearing_tearing



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, First Dates, Fluff, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Wears Glasses, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 13:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6241012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearing_tearing/pseuds/wearing_tearing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You got hit in the face.”</p>
<p>Steve shrugs. “I’ll live.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t meant to throw it that hard,” the man tells him, “and I didn’t have time to yell out a warning.”</p>
<p>“You did. I just have shitty reflexes.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	heads up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ratqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratqueen/gifts).



> crossposted from [ tumblr](http://hawkguyz.tumblr.com/post/140976436706/hey-im-ratqueen-on-ao3-i-cant-believe-i-wasnt)! megmaybethings asked for stevebucky + broken glasses.

Steve grabs his phone as he walks through the park, sending a text to Wanda to remind her they both have to come in to work on the weekend. Her reply is a picture of herself pouting, Pietro in the background raising a hand up in a wave. Steve smiles and shakes his head, pocketing his phone and adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder.

It’s early enough that it’s still sunny outside, the warm weather making Steve sweat a little under his clothes. He slows his pace when he sees two kids running in front of him, chasing a butterfly, grabby hands raised over their heads. He’s so distracted by them that he almost trips over a root, sidestepping it at the last minute.

“That was close,” he says to himself, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Heads up!”

Steve barely has time to turn his head in the direction of the voice before something hits him square in the face. Times slows down as he starts to fall backwards, a sharp pain rushing through him as he hears something crack and feels his glasses press tightly over his eyes. 

When Steve blinks his eyes open he’s on the ground, the blue sky cracked from behind his glasses. He lifts a tentative hand to his face and takes off his glasses, relief rushing through him when nothing feels broken and his fingers don’t get sticky with blood. His glasses are another story, though, both lenses cracked and the frame crooked.

“Oh shit, oh fuck, are you okay?”

A man kneels down by his side, his hands open in front of him as if to touch Steve or to keep him from moving. With his blurry vision, Steve can only tell he has long brown hair, the ends of it curling under this ear.

“‘M fine,” Steve says, trying to get up.

“Don’t!” the man yells, putting his hands on Steve’s shoulder. “You might have a concussion.”

Steve takes stock of himself. Aside from the pain in his forehead and the bridge of his nose, he feels okay. The bright afternoon sun doesn’t hurt his eyes and he doesn’t feel dizzy, and moving his head from side to side doesn’t make things spin either.

“I’m fine,” Steve repeats, batting the man’s hands away and sitting up.

“I’m so sorry,” the man apologizes, hands still up and hovering over Steve’s arms. “I was trying to give the ball back to a few guys who...,” he stops, looks around, his lips thinning when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. “Who left and took the ball with them, apparently. Fuck, they didn’t even check to see if you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” Steve says automatically.

“You got hit in the face.”

Steve shrugs. “I’ll live.”

“I didn’t meant to throw it that hard,” the man tells him, “and I didn’t have time to yell out a warning.”

“You did. I just have shitty reflexes.”

The man is silent for a second and then snorts, and Steve can swear he sees a smile curving at the man’s lips. “If you’re making jokes than you really must be okay.”

“I am.” Steve nods, and then looks down at his glasses. “But my glasses didn’t survive.”

“Oh shit. Oh my god, I broke your glasses. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Steve waves a hand. “I have another pair at home.”

“How well can you see without them, though?”

Steve sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Not well, but I can manage.”

“I’ll walk you home,” the man offers, and when Steve opens his mouth to protest he adds, “Please. I broke your glasses and probably gave you a bruise, it’s the least I could do.”

Steve looks at him and licks his lips, fingers coming up to his face again, skin tender. “Well, there’s only one problem,” he says, lowering his hand.

“What’s that?”

“I don’t let strangers know where I live.”

The man smiles, pink lips and white teeth. He extends a hand to Steve. “James Buchanan Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky. I’m thirty-one, the oldest of four, and I have my own security company: Howling Commandos. Oh, and I’m single.”

Steve snorts, cheeks flushing a little as he shakes Bucky’s hand. “And people take you seriously with that name?”

“Hey!” Bucky gasps, all mock-offense, and then frowns. “Wait, are you talking about my name or the Commandos?”

“Maybe both?”

“I’ll have you know I’m very good at my job.”

Steve lets go of Bucky’s hand, skin tingling. “You took me down with just a ball to the face. I’m sure you’re better than good.”

“I’m really sorry about that,” Bucky murmurs, shoulders slumping.

“It’s fine.” Steve waves him off. “Not the first time it happened.”

“Still,” Bucky says, and then raises an eyebrow. “That couldn’t have been fun…”

“Steve Rogers,” Steve continues. “I’m thirty-two, only child, and a graphic designer. And I’m also single.”

And kind of wishing his vision wasn’t so blurry as it is without his glasses on, so he could see Bucky’s face better. But from what he  _ can _ make out, mainly the dark hair, stubble, blue eyes, and nice smile, Bucky looks to be just about his type.

“Nice to meet you, Steve.”

“I’d say it’s nice to meet you too, but, you know.” Steve pointedly looks down at his cracked glasses.

“God, you’re gonna make me feel guilty about that one forever, huh?”

Steve sniffs. “I’m sure I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you after you walk me home.”

“Not a stranger anymore, then?” Bucky smiles again, and Steve wishes he had his glasses on.

Steve shrugs. “You did just say we’d be forever, so…”

Bucky laughs, loud and bright, sending shivers down Steve’s spine. “Alright then,” Bucky says, smile in place, fingers curling around Steve’s wrist. “First step is getting up.”

Steve does with Bucky’s help, brushing away grass and grimacing at the stains on his pants. Bucky apologizes again, saying he’ll play for the dry-cleaners if Steve wants him to.

“You can pay for dinner,” Steve tells him, lips twitching up. “If you want to.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, just stares at him, mouth open. “Can you even see how I look like right now?”

Steve frowns. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Bucky makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat, shaking his head. “Nothing,” he answers weakly. “Nothing at all. Now c’mon, tell me where you live.”

They walk side by side, shoulders and hands brushing at every few steps. It makes Steve’s stomach flip, especially as they get to talking on their way to Steve’s apartment. Steve finds out Bucky has three younger sisters and handful of nephew and nieces already, that he loves baseball, that the work he does in his security company mostly involves computers, and that his immediate goal in life is to move someplace that allows pets.

“A house would be ideal, but I think I’d get lonely.”

“Not if you have dogs,” Steve points out.

“Dogs, plural?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods. “I think three is a good number.”

“Lock, Shock, and Barrel?” Bucky muses out loud.

Steve blinks. “I was thinking more like Huey, Dewey, and Louie but I like your names better.”

“Thanks,” Bucky winks at him. “So, Disney fan, huh?”

They fall into a discussing about their favorite movies and tv shows, which turns into one about their favorite snacks, and moves to their favorite restaurants in the city just as they get to Steve’s building.

“Should I be taking notes?” Bucky asks, sounding shy. “If I’m still taking you out to dinner, that is.”

Steve bites down on his bottom lip, stopping and turning to Bucky. “Look, you don’t have to.”

Bucky blinks. “ _ What _ ?”

“I feel like I made it sound like you owe me something. Because of the glasses?” Glasses Steve is still holding, waving it between them. “And you don’t. You really don’t owe me anything. You’ve already done more than enough making sure I got home safe.”

“Steve—”

“So please don’t say yes because you feel guilty or because you think you can’t say no,” Steve keeps going, stomach in knots. Just because Bucky was flirting with him earlier doesn’t mean he actually wants to do anything about it, especially when he didn’t say anything when Steve suggested dinner the first time around. “Because you can. You absolutely can say no. Whenever you want, about whatever it is you think you should say no to.”

“ _ Steve _ .”

“Actually, let’s pretend I didn’t ask you out at all. That way you don’t have to say anything and we can just pretend this never happened.”

Steve is flushing when he’s done talking, sweat gathering at his temples and palms. He knows Bucky is staring at him, considering and unflinching, and is that… Is that a  _ smile _ ?

“This is what we’re going to do,” Bucky starts, poking Steve in the chest, “and you can say no to any part of this at any time.” That’s definitely a smile, or at least it  _ sounds _ like Bucky is smiling. “I’m going to come up with you, and you’ll grab your glasses, and after you take a good look at me you’ll decide if you want to go on that date.”

“I don’t have to look—”

“You do,” Bucky tells him, shutting Steve up. “I can see all of you just fine, and that way we’ll be on even ground.”

Steve fights back a shivers at Bucky’s words and nods. “That sounds fair.”

“Lead the way, then.”

They don’t speak during the elevator ride and as Steve unlocks his front door, inviting Bucky inside with just a gesture of his hand. He hangs his bag and drops his keys and ruined glasses on the table, looking over his shoulder at Bucky. 

“Make yourself at home, I’ll be right back.”

It doesn’t take long before he finds his spare pair, putting them on and rushing to the bathroom to see the state of his face. The bridge of his nose, right between his eyes, is red and a little puffy, but aside from that his face looks okay. His hair also doesn’t look like a complete disaster, aside from the one leave stuck to it on the right side, just above his ear. He doesn’t look his best, but he also doesn’t look his worst, and maybe Bucky will think the tight button down and slacks with grass stains are hot.

Bucky has his back to him when Steve goes back to the living room, attention focused on one of the bookshelves Steve owns. It covers the entirety of one of his walls, books and drawings and picture frames filling it, telling a little of bit of the life Steve’s lived so far.

Steve watches as Bucky traces his fingers lightly through the edges of a framed drawing before picking up a picture, his low laugh echoing through the room. Steve knows what picture it is: him at sixteen, all sharp angles and righteous anger, even with his Ma standing by his side, a small Christmas tree behind them.

Things are different now. Steve is no longer small, his shoulders broad and strength in every line of his body. And his Ma is no longer alive, leaving Steve with bittersweet memories and an empty space in his heart. Steve swallows hard, waiting for Bucky to put the picture back and move on to something else. He takes a deep breath, heart fluttering in his chest as he takes a step forward.

“So, did you find anything interesting?”

Steve feels like a punch in the gut when Bucky turns around, all blue eyes and stubble and pinks lips, his hair tucked behind his ear, a healthy blush to his cheeks. He looks at Steve and smiles a little, small and shy and a little hesitant. He’s…

Well, Bucky is  _ gorgeous _ .

“You think so?” Bucky asks, eyes sparkling as he grins.

Steve can feel himself flush at realizing he’s said those words out loud, but he still squares his shoulders and says, “Yes, I do.”

He lets his eyes rake over Bucky again, and knows Bucky is doing the same to him. And Steve stands corrected: all of Bucky is beautiful, from his thick thighs wrapped in tight black denims to his strong chest stretching the fabric of his grey v-neck to the advanced prosthetics of his left arm and the scars that peek out from under his collar. All of him screams strength and power and grace. But what gets to Steve are his bright eyes and kind smile, the sound of his laughter, the way he moves his hands when he talks.

“You’re gorgeous too,” Bucky murmurs, flashing Steve a quick smile, his eyes dark.

“I think you need your eyes checked,” Steve replies, because he still feels all of 5’4’’ most of the time. “I know a good doctor.”

Bucky snorts, coming closer, stopping just a few steps away from Steve. “So, about that date.”

“Yes?” Steve drawls, grinning when Bucky rolls his eyes at him.

“You still up for it?” Bucky asks. “Not because of anything that happened. Just because we want to.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Steve breathes out, butterflies in his stomach.

“You sure?” Bucky asks, his metal hand curling into a fist, the plates whirling. His other one comes up to scratch the side of his neck, fingers grazing over his scars. He’s not looking at Steve, but to the floor.

“Bucky,” Steve says, one finger tilting Bucky’s chin up, his other hand wrapping lightly over Bucky’s metal one. “I’d be honored to go on a date with you,” he says, and then repeats Bucky’s earlier words, “not because of anything that happened. Just because I want to.”

Bucky’s answer comes in the form of a slow smile that spreads over his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good,” he says, voice rough and happy. “Right now?”

Steve shrugs. “I’m not doing anything.”

Even though it was a short walk back to his apartment, Steve found it easy to talk and laugh and joke with Bucky. He’s glad to find out that holds true as they wait for their orders, sitting at one of Steve’s favorite diners, their legs tangled under the table.

It’s one of the best dates Steve’s been on in a while, warmth rushing through his body and his heart beating faster whenever Bucky smiles at him or touches his hand. He doesn’t learn what happened to Bucky and his arm, but he smiles when Bucky asks for his number so he can text him pictures of puppies and he listens when Bucky tells him about growing up in Brooklyn just a few blocks from Steve, about his love for jazz, and about his stress baking.

“Frosting cupcakes relaxes me, what can I say?” Bucky says with a shrugs, popping a fry into his mouth.

“I run,” Steve offers, which makes Bucky laugh.

“Of course you do.”

They talk about most things and nothing while eating their food, conversation flowing easily between them. Which is why Steve is a little disappointed when their date comes to an end, both of them finding themselves in front of Steve’s building once again.

“I had a great time,” Steve says, fidgeting a little.

“Even after I hit you in the face with a ball?” Bucky asks, biting his lip not to laugh.

“Especially after that.”

“Me too,” Bucky says softly, eyes falling to Steve’s lips. “Can I?”

Steve licks his lips and whispers, “Please.”

Kissing Bucky is like falling in slow motion again, only this time there is no pain and the hard ground beneath him. There’s only the softness of Bucky’s lips and the taste of his tongue, the hard line of Bucky’s body pressed to his, his warm hands cradling Steve’s face between his palms. The kiss is slow and sweet and Steve gets lost in it, his arms wrapped around Bucky’s waist, holding him tight.

“Wow,” Bucky whispers when they break the kiss, dropping his forehead against Steve’s.

“Yeah,” Steve says back, voice low and rough.

“Does this mean I can ask you on a second date?” Bucky asks, eyes wide and hopeful, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Steve laughs and kisses Bucky again, short and sweet closed-lipped kisses, just because he can. “Yeah, Buck,” he says, their lips brushing together. “Whatever you want.”

*

Bucky asks him for a second date, and a third, and a fourth, and tenth, and a fiftieth. But it’s around the hundredth one that he goes down on one knee, tears in his eyes and love in every word he speaks, and asks Steve to marry him.

Steve says yes.

And in his hurry to tackle Bucky and kiss him senseless, Steve accidentally elbows him in the face.

“This isn’t payback, is it?” Bucky asks him dazedly, rubbing at the red spot appearing on his forehead.

In between laughs and tears and kisses, Steve answers, “Now, why would I do that?”

**Author's Note:**

> [i'm here ~](http://hawkguyz.tumblr.com/)


End file.
